


comeback

by boneclaws



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, Team X Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boneclaws/pseuds/boneclaws
Summary: Logan doesn't know why he's still part of this stupid fucking team. Victor doesn't really care, but hedoesfind it amusing.





	comeback

**Author's Note:**

> Some OOC stuff, I don't know. I haven't read Team X-relevant things in a long time.

"There was the time Maverick almost got blown up," Logan grumbled as he stared at the oil sizzling in its pan, scratching absently at his belly. He really should just crack the damn egg on the kitchen counter, make the omelette like he wanted to, but he was too hot and sweaty and cranky to make that small effort.

Victor, meanwhile, didn't even look up, laid out in the shade by the open door. "Even North thought that was funny. He was fine." His shirt was gone, and so were his trousers, nothing on his hips but the tight material of his underwear as he tried to catch a non-existent breeze. Logan would bitch at him to put something on-- that nobody wants to see that much skin, much less that much _hair_ \-- but even that sounded like more effort than it was worth.

Arguing, however, was forever. "What about the time Kestrel almost died on that Russian mountain?" As that sentence was punctuated, so too did a wave of heat from the stove wash over him, killing him, and Logan thought _fuck the eggs, fuck the stove, fuck August and its fucking wrong ideas about appropriate fucking temperatures_. Why couldn't he have a mutant power to make it autumn already? Though he tried to concentrate, to maybe make the air cooler, this only proved to make the air feel even hotter around him.

_Fuck that shit, too._

"Kestrel almost killed himself 'porting two millimetres short of a wall," Victor said. "Moron puts _himself_ in danger." And even as he lay still, the sweat pouring out of his body continued to move, rolling down the muscles of his chest and towards the dips and slats of his abs to pool on the floor beneath him. It was going to stain the wood.

Not that Logan was paying attention to that. Not that he was noticing the way Victor's neck and back curved as he stretched-- cat-like, trying to keep himself from sticking to the floor. Nah. All Logan was thinking was _fuck Team X_. "All right, what about that time I almost got crushed by a giant snowball?" He finally turned the stove off, giving up on the eggs. "Or the eight million fucking times you and I get our flesh ripped off of us, or get those, I don't know, fucking _heat strokes_ because they make us run through half the fucking country?"

Hand on his hip, Logan pointed the spatula in his hand Victor's way. "It's all pointless. I hate this team, and I don't know why you're defending it. We'd be better off on our own."

Though Victor didn't answer this time, he did move, rolling onto his side to meet Logan's gaze, and not for the first time Logan wondered if maybe he had some hidden mutation that would somehow put him in a cabin in the woods in Alberta, snow and cold and softness all he could see and feel.

But this time he didn't try, still angry about the last time he thought about a secondary mutation, and because Victor was still looking at him with this amused tilt to his lips that drove Logan crazy. It hit Logan hard in the chest, those stupid eyes always ready to ruin him, and this weakness irritated him as well, making him think _fuck complicated looks, too._

Victor just grinned. "I like the team because we get to fuck shit up. Because it's fun when it's over and we're bleeding and healing, and the adrenaline's got you so fuckin' hopped you're in my lap soon's we get back home."

He pushed himself up, his legs like fluid power as he stood. "And because you're too much of a pussy" -- Logan was drawn to the hair on his legs, the way his muscles tightened as he stood tall, drawn to the way Victor's arms looked huge as he swung them back once in a stretch -- "to do this kinda crap without a safety net like Weapon Plus."

Everything about Victor was hard, every muscle, every line of skin, power and masculinity and _dominance_ , so fucking hard even between his _thighs_ \--

That was when Logan caught himself staring, eyes snapping back up to Victor's face and the undeniable smirk there. He was amused still, but there was something else in that look-- a twinge of _something_ that slammed Logan in the gut and made his throat dry as much as it made his toes curl gently into the floor.

"There was the time Maverick said he didn't need back-up, and the time you and I didn't have any orders to leave for an entire fucking day." Victor shrugged. "And there was the time they fixed the air-conditioning in my bedroom, but not yours.

"Those were times I thought the team wasn't half-bad, too."

 _Those were all today_ , Logan wanted to argue, but by then Victor was disappearing to his room. Logan swallowed, thinking that Victor was a ridiculous, oversized child, too easily amused and too easily pleased. But he was also scrambling to put the spatula back on the counter and follow him, thinking, _I love Team X and the lack of safety, and I love getting ripped to pieces and having Victor lick the blood off of me, and I love Maverick for being efficient enough he doesn't need us half the time_.

He reached Victor's room, felt the wash of cool air, and then after that a surreal pang of heat. In his vision he saw Victor lying on his back, his underwear rolled down, his dick hard and thick and wrapped in long, long fingers. He smelled his sex, smelled his _want_ , smelled his _own_ rising up to meet it, and met Victor's eyes once more just as the man licked his lips and said, "Come sit on my cock, runt."

Logan had just enough brainpower to think, _fuck Creed_ , before he couldn't think at all.


End file.
